Blood
by Mediancat
Summary: After the events of The Gift, Spike is determined to change the past.


No.  
  
It wasn't going to end like that.  
  
It bloody well wasn't.  
  
And the fact of the gravestone and her dead body meant nothing.  
  
She was goddamn well going to come back.  
  
Not after all of that was she just going to sod off and die like that, even if it was to save her sister and the world.  
  
There had to be another way.  
  
And after listening to Dawn describe what had happened Spike got his idea.  
  
It took him weeks to track down the spell. Finally found it in a book in an out-of-the-way used bookstore in some quaint little hellhole called Dundalk, Maryland.  
  
It took him another month after that to gather up the components, hire the only engineer in the continental United States capable of building the thing, and find a witch who was both unethical enough to cast the spell and still have enough heart to sympathize with his reasons. The engineer was in Olympia, Washington, and the witch was in Matagordo, Texas.  
  
After it was all over Spike had to haul the thing back to Sunnydale himself. Then he steeled himself to go back before --  
  
To well before it had happened. Before Buffy had taken her damned header. A few weeks before, in fact. But he had a couple of stops to make first.  
  
The first was at the gravesite. Spike bought himself one of those cheapass disposable cameras and he took several pictures.  
  
Next, he went to the hospital, where he swiped two complete sets of records. When he read through the second set he was even more convinced that he was doing the right thing.  
  
Finally, he went to an abandoned house. He took a couple of pictures of the place in its current rundown state and then walked inside. (No one had bought the bloody place yet; rumors were it was cursed. He did his damnedest to help those rumors along.)  
  
And then he was set. He was where he needed to be anyway; he went inside and hung a sharp left, then stopped. Spike had no desire to be too close; if he popped up in the same place his target was there'd be a rather messy explosion. It would not help him in the least to be reduced to a bloody smear on the floor.  
  
Right then. No point in hesitating. He pulled out one of the hospital records and examined it; then, he took a deep breath, placed the device on the floor in front of him, and recited the words of the spell. "Chronos, master of time . . ."  
  
When Spike finally landed, he felt like he'd just been tossed off a cliff. But there was no time to lose. He rounded the corner of the no longer vacant room . . .  
  
And nearly ran smack into his target. "Spike," the woman said, a bit confused. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"  
  
"You could bloody well say there was," Spike said. "I got a little show-and- tell to do here. It's gonna be hard to believe. Believe me, it was - it was harder to live through. A lot harder." He took another deep breath. "But that's not here or there right now. I need to get through this quickly. Please. Let me." Then he began his picture show.  
  
First he showed her the first set of hospital records. "This," she said. "This . . . it's only a couple of months away."  
  
"Yeah, it is," Spike said. "Now -" Then he showed her the other set of hospital records.  
  
"This is a sick joke," she said. "This is some kind of trick -"  
  
"Do you see me laughing?" Spike said. "I'm not doing this just to get a thrill. Believe me."  
  
"You expect me to believe -" Then Spike brought out the picture of Buffy's gravestone. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I suppose you do." Her voice was lifeless, dispirited. "But why did you show me this? Especially now?"  
  
"Not to torture you. I think -" Spike stopped. He knew what he was about to ask was monstrous. But this was the only person on the planet who'd go along with it. "I think we can save her. And given what's going to happen -"  
  
"How?" she asked.  
  
Spike told her.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Buffy tossed Doc off the side of the building; she didn't give a shit where the bastard landed, or in how many pieces. Then she ran to untie Dawn.  
  
But it was too late. The portal was open. Already the effects were beginning - one lightning bolt destroyed a street. A dragon flew out. Dawn wanted to jump into the portal - she said it was the only way to close it. And then it hit Buffy - like a montage, almost. Dawn had been made from her -  
  
Summers blood.  
  
Summers blood would close the portal, end the threat . . .  
  
"Buffy!" Dawn yelled, "Behind you!"  
  
Buffy spun to see who was standing there. "No," she said. "You can't be real."  
  
"I am," the woman said.  
  
"How -" Buffy said.  
  
She shook her head sadly. "There's no time for this. Spike explained it. Don't take it out on him, by the way. The one down below has no idea -" she staggered.  
  
Then it hit Buffy. "Oh, no, you don't," she said.  
  
"Yes. Yes I do."  
  
And before Buffy could stop her -  
  
Joyce jumped into the portal.  
  
Summers blood.  
  
Summers blood would close the portal.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Spike caught Joyce's body before it hit the ground. Wouldn't do to have any marks on the body when he returned it. He stepped on the machine as everyone, including himself, ran up asking questions.  
  
He tossed all the papers, neatly bundled, to Giles. "No time for questions," he said as he stepped on the device and chanted the spell.  
  
He found himself back in the Summers' living room, where - he checked the clock - Buffy would be back in about half an hour. He gently deposited the body on the couch.  
  
Then he stepped off the device and chanted, once more, sending it to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean in the year 1207. If any starfish cared to travel in time, Spike didn't give a good goddamn.  
  
The evidence was gone. Joyce was dead and wouldn't be telling anybody.  
  
That left only him.  
  
Dammit, he wished he didn't have to do this.  
  
But he did. No loose ends. He'd done something monstrous, but he'd saved Buffy's life.  
  
He walked out into the sunlight.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They sat around the table at the magic shop. "Are you sure it's not fake?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I'm sure," Giles said. "I've seen enough forgeries in my day -"  
  
Willow nodded in agreement. "No magical hoohah either."  
  
"And that sure as hell wasn't me as caught her," Spike said. "I'm talented, yeah, but I've yet to master the art of being in two places at once."  
  
"So I died," Buffy said. "I jumped through the portal - and I died."  
  
"Yes, but that's not the important part. Look at the hospital records." Giles handed them to Buffy. "More specifically, look at the part that indicates cause of death."  
  
Feeling ghoulish going over the reports of her own death, Buffy looked where Giles had told her to.  
  
Aneurysm. 


End file.
